


The Bride Wore Blood

by surena_13



Category: Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surena_13/pseuds/surena_13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Today Miranda Priestly, Editor in Chief of Runway, gave the New York courthouse a scare when she ran through its halls in a blood splattered wedding gown holding a bloodied letter opener. The body of her fiancé, William Hollis, was found moments before.”  Now it’s up to young and up-coming lawyer Andy Sachs to keep Miranda out of prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bride Wore Blood

Her white heels click on the marble of the courthouse, Around her people step aside and look at her in amazement and horror, but she pays no attention to them. She keeps on running through the crowds. Some spectators photograph or film her with their mobile phones. A woman shrieks in disgust when she discovers that her hand is covered in blood after she pushed open a door. Another man yells “there, the woman in the wedding gown.” She rounds a corner and nearly collides with a cameraman. He doesn’t notice her, but the young lawyer in front of the camera does.

“Miranda,” she says, completely surprised when she takes in the woman’s disheveled appearance. The bride reaches out, grabs hold of the lawyer’s hand and places a bloodied letter opener that she had been clutching so desperately in her hand.

“Andrea, you have to help me. I didn’t kill him.” A couple of policemen grab her from behind and cuff her. They try to force her out of the courthouse, but she stays put, ignoring their hands and the ice cold iron around her wrists, not even bothering to shoot a deadly glare and fixes her gaze on Andrea’s brown eyes.

“Andrea, please,” escapes from her mouth. The plea seems to wake the brunette up and she calmly places the alleged murder weapon in an evidence bag that another policeman holds open for her. He gives her a look of pity.

“This woman now has legal representation. Do not under any circumstances question her until I have had the opportunity to question Ms. Priestly.”

***

 

Andy sips her water as she waits for Miranda’s assistant to arrive with a change of clothes. Every time she closes her eyes, every time she blinks she sees Miranda standing in front of her, looking beautiful as ever, in a white wedding gown, covered in blood, holding a letter opener, practically begging her to help her. This would be a good time to start doubting the career change she made a few years ago.

 

After she discovered that writing articles did not in fact change the world, she quit her job at the Mirror and started her study at Harvard law. She hardly finished it or she received an incredible offer of a top-notch law firm which, of course, she accepted. From there on it was a hard, but fast rising path. She isn’t at the top yet, but she will get there and this case will either make her or break her.

 

A young, blond, beautiful woman on designer heels and wearing clothes that most definitely came out of the Closet comes running towards Andy. If that and the clothing bag aren’t enough of a hint, the sheer look panic in the girl’s green eyes that all of Miranda’s assistants seem to have, confirms that this is indeed the new Emily, be it nr. 1 or nr. 2.

 

“I have Miranda’s clothes,” the assistant says when she finally reaches Andy.

 

“I see that, yes. Thank you.”

 

“Will you be able to prove she’s innocent?”

 

“For now, I can’t say whether she’s guilty or innocent, let alone prove it. I have to speak with her first and then I still couldn’t tell you.” The assistant gives her a desperate and pleading look.

 

“Please. I have to know something. Everything is going completely ballistic at Runway. Nobody knows what to do without her. And her face is all over the news and nobody seems to stop it.  She couldn’t have done it, could she?” Andy wants to object and say that many people, including herself, do not deem it impossible that Miranda has the ability and willpower to murder someone, but swallows the words and gives the girl a reassuring look.

 

“Tell everyone at Runway to calm down and do their job the way they always do it only better, because when Miranda returns and she will return, she will expect nothing less than perfection, as usual, alright?” The blonde whispers a quick thank you and then runs off again after handing Andy the clothes. Andy throws the now empty cup in the trash, sighs and opens the door of Miranda’s holding room.

 

The silver-haired woman sits as regally as ever on the other side of the table, tapping her nails impatiently against its polished surface. The way she sits there in the dim light in a pearl white dress with dried-up blood splattered on the front, it’s almost a painting, a rather morbid one, but a beautiful one nonetheless.

 

“Your assistant brought a change of clothes,” Andy starts, since Miranda is clearly not the one who is going to start talking.

 

“How thoughtful,” Miranda replies sarcastically, a snarl appearing on her lips, but Andy chooses to ignore her tone.

 

“We need your dress. It’s evidence in the case. So if you could take it off.” With an annoyed look on her face that Miranda normally only reserves for Irv and Jacqueline, she slowly gets up and unbuttons the sheer jacket. Andy licks her lips as Miranda lets the jacket slide off her shoulders and tosses it behind her on a small table. Andy’s eyes wander over the flawless ivory skin, lingering on the cleavage.

 

God, she hasn’t changed at all, Andy thinks. She wishes she had never let her go. She remembers the feeling of the creamy skin against her own as more of it is revealed in front of her. The brief affair they had while Andy was still working at the Mirror seems like a lifetime ago, yet she can still feel Miranda’s lips against her own as if it was yesterday. What they had together was nothing more than a fling in Andy’s eyes. They had sex, talked a little, barely a glass of wine together in the townhouse and nothing more. Miranda never expressed any interest in Andy’s personal life nor did she reveal anything about her own.

 

Andy had gone out on a date with some guy and they kissed. And somehow in a city as large as New York Miranda managed to drive by at the exact moment the man had stuck his tongue down her throat. Their eyes had locked and that was the last Andy had seen of her. She didn’t respond to Andy’s calls and e-mails and didn’t open the door for her. Andy had realized then that Miranda did care for her and that she herself now had feelings for the Editor, but it was too late. They never met again, until now.

 

“Why don’t you start by telling me what happened?” Andy prompts and swallows when Miranda stands before her in a white corset and underskirt.

 

“I met William at the law firm that handled my divorce from Stephen. Two months after the divorce was finalized and after you so publicly chose to break up, he called me and asked me out for dinner. I accepted and found myself charmed by him.” Miranda stands with her hands on her hips, looking at a point on the wall. She looks sad, hurt. Andy’s eyes focus on the wounds on Miranda’s arm. The red, jagged skin contrasts awfully with her white skin.

 

“I think they need all the clothes,” Andy says when Miranda makes no move to undress any further. Miranda raises her eyebrows, but keeps her deadly comment to herself for once. She kicks off her shoes, pulls off the girdle and stockings and throws them behind her where her dress lies.

 

“In the months that followed more dinners came and I realized I liked him. After a year he moved in. It wasn’t until a couple of months ago he proposed.” Slowly Miranda starts to unhook her corset, acting like she isn’t completely aware of the effect this has on Andy.

 

“We decided to get married at the courthouse. He thought it was a good idea since he loved the law and I agreed. I already had every type of cliché wedding. And then today we had already gone into the separate waiting room and I went to the adjoining bathroom to freshen up. When I got out he was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood, the letter opener stuck in his chest. It was his good luck charm. He always had the idiotic thing with him. I pulled it out in an attempt to revive him, but it was too late. He was already dead.” The corset falls open and involuntarily Andy feels herself grow wet. Miranda’s body is still the same as it used to be. Toned stomach, full breasts tipped with pink nipples and in too good shape to belong to a woman of Miranda’s age.

 

“And you expect me to believe that someone managed to sneak in at the exact moment you are in the bathroom, kill William and leave without you noticing it?”

 

“Seeing that you are my lawyer, yes, I do expect you to believe that.” Andy folds her arms across her chest. It’s a story that is rating high in her top ten of most ridiculous stories she has ever heard, but Miranda actually looks sincere. Fantastic she thinks. The case is sounding more and more like the one that will break her. If not her career, it will break her heart.

 

***

 

“Today Miranda Priestly, Editor in Chief of Runway, gave the New York courthouse a scare when she ran through its halls in a blood splattered wedding gown holding a bloodied letter opener. The body of her fiancé, William Hollis, was found moments before. Local press have already given her the name ‘The Bloody Bride’.”

 

“Yeah, among others, but I guess you can’t say ‘Oh damn the bitch actually kills’, ‘Bloody Mira’ or ‘Dragon Lady slays one for real this time’ on national television,’ Karen remarks while Andy lets her head  fall on the table. Nationwide press coverage, just what she needs. On the screen amateur footage of Miranda running through the courthouse is shown. “Looks like you got yourself a tough one, honey.” Andy grunts while Karen grins.

 

“Tell me about it. I thought it was hell working under her, but I get the feeling that that was a warming up for when you end up working for her. There’s no way that I can verify her alibi, dozens of witnesses saw her running covered in her fiancé’s blood, holding the murder weapon. It’s impossible, but I want to, no, need to keep her out of prison.”

 

“Why? Other than to save your career, of course. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the way you left the poor killer standing in Paris, would it?” Karen waggles her eyebrows.

 

“You go on like that and _I_ will be a killer soon. It might have something to do with that, but I don’t want to talk about it. Not now anyway. So go, hang out in your own office or meet up with your gold digging, soon-to-be-ex-wife or whatever it is you got this time.”

 

‘I happened to have a very handsome, very rich soon-to-be-ex-husband. He’s a little too young for me, sadly, but at least I’ll have something to look at.” With that Karen saunters off, winking before she closes the door behind her.

 

***

 

“The charge is murder in the first degree. How do you plea?” Andy glances at Miranda. She has done her best to look softer. Dressed in white with light make up, her hair brushed back, a serene expression on her face. It makes her look less like the dragon lady and more like just Miranda Priestly, a woman who has just lost her husband to be in a terrible way.

 

“Not guilty, Your Honour,” she says.

 

“Your Honour, the defendant is not a flight risk. She has two daughters she has to take care of and an internationally acclaimed magazine to run which quite literally would fall apart without her,” Andy starts her plea, but the District Attorney interrupts.

 

“Your Honour, this is a woman who murdered a man in cold blood. We request bail be denied.”

 

“Miss Sachs, do you have any witnesses to speak for the defendant’s character?” the judge asks as he takes in Miranda’s appearance. Andy wants to believe that he feels sorry for her, that he has just a little sympathy for a woman who is seriously misunderstood. “Any employees, former employees?”

 

“Myself, Your Honour.” The look the judge gives her tells Andy that she won’t do in this case, especially if she considers the way she left Miranda’s employment. “Other than that - -“ Andy looks at Miranda who looks at her in a way that says ‘What do you think?’ “No, I don’t think so.”

 

“Ex-husbands, friends, family, ex-roommates, anything” the judge asks. Miranda purses her lips.

 

“No, Your Honour, I’m afraid not,” Andy says. She can practically feel the smug smile on the DA’s face.

 

“Then I’m afraid, Miss Sachs, that bail will be denied.” Immediately Miranda is seized by her arms and forced out of the courtroom. She has a look of great displeasure on her face, but she walks willingly between the two enormous men.

 

“Good luck,” the DA says as Andy passes by him. Andy wants to hiss ‘shut up’, but restrains herself from doing so and smiles at the older man.

 

“I don’t think I’ll be needing it, but thanks, Thompson.”

 

***

 

Quite confidently the detective sits on the stand. Megan Hill, Andy knows her from previous cases. It is in the woman’s nature to be overly confident and even though she is a good detective, she is known to be sloppy in her work sometimes.

 

“Did you find any other evidence to suggest that Miss Priestly murdered Mr. Hollis?”

 

“We had the stab wounds analyzed and discovered that whoever stabbed Mr. Hollis is about 5,5 or 5,6 feet tall and weighs between 120 and 140 pounds.”

 

“Does Miss Priestly match this description?”

 

“Yes, she does.”

 

“Were there traces of any other person being in that waiting room besides the victim and Miss Priestly?” Thompson asks. Detective Hill takes her eyes off Thompson and looks right at Miranda, attempting to stare her down which fails when her stare is met by an icy glare.

 

“We canvassed the crime scene exhaustively, but no such evidence was found.”

 

“Thank you. No further questions, Your Honour.” The D.A. sits down while Andy takes a deep breath and starts to get up when she feels Miranda’s fingers brush lightly against the back of her hand. She tries to catch Miranda’s eye, but the silver-haired woman keeps looking straight ahead. Andy gives a weak smile and gets up.

 

“Detective Hill, Miss Priestly ran out of that waiting room covered in blood and she left the door wide open. When something like this occurs there are always curious spectators. How quick were you to secure the crime scene?”

 

“We had it secured in approximately five minutes after Miss Priestly fled the scene.”

 

“Mmhm, so you can’t guarantee that no one else entered that room and contaminated it?” Detective Hill raises her eyebrows and shifts in her seat.

 

“No.” This time Hill looks annoyed and the confidence starts to slip away from her attitude.

 

“You said there were no signs of anyone else being in that waiting room besides the victim and Miss Priestly.”

 

“Yes,” comes the curt answer.

 

“Isn’t it possible that the actual killer hid among the spectators and quickly got rid of any evidence that might incriminate him or her before you managed to secure the crime scene?”

 

“Yes, that seems possible,” the detective says hesitantly.

 

“So when you say you searched exhaustively, does that mean you searched every inch or just until you got tired?” Detective Hill looks insulted and opens her mouth to reply but Thompson beats her to it.

 

“Objection, Your Honour.”

 

“Sustained.” Andy smiles apologetically. Even someone who isn’t a lawyer knows that while the jury is supposed to ignore her remark, it is still in their head.

 

“Did you think to look for other suspects?”

 

“When Miss Priestly ran out with the murder weapon in her hand, she became our prime suspect. After we - -“

 

“A simple yes or no will do, detective.” The detective briefly looks at the DA before focusing her attention on Andy again.

 

“No.”

 

“God, I’d love to have your job. It sounds so easy.”

 

“Your Honour, objection,” Thompson says agitated.

 

“Sustained. Miss Sachs, mind your tone.” The judge warns Andy.

 

“Apologies, Your Honour. Detective Hill, you named Miss Priestly your prime suspect because she was covered in the victim’s blood and holding the murder weapon?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Could it be possible that this happened when she pulled the murder weapon out of his chest in an attempt to save his life and thus his blood ended up on her dress. And that after she discovered he was dead, she ran out in utter panic, forgetting that she was still holding the weapon?” The detective rolls her eyes and taps her nails against the wood of the bench.

 

“That seems a possible scenario,” she says slowly as if she knows she’ll regret ever taking the stand in this ‘open-and-close’ case. Her eyes flick again towards Thompson. The two of them always think that no one knows about their past. That they had an affair while they were both married and it destroyed both the marriages and their own relationship. The feelings are still there, that’s obvious, but they can’t be in a relationship. The guilt was too much. At least that’s the story that always goes around in the courthouse.

 

“Just one more thing. You said that the killer was 5,5 to 5,6.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And while Miss Priestly might be this height, did it ever cross your mind to look at the shoes she was wearing? Because it clearly shows on this photo,” Andy says and places a picture in front of the detective, “that her heels were at least 4 inches. Probable 4,5. Which would, of course, make her taller. Doesn’t that mean that Miss Priestly does not match this description?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank you. No further questions, Your Honour.” Miss Hill looks irritated, Thompson appears to be in a grumpier mood than before Andy questioned the detective and Miranda, while many people probably wouldn’t see it, looks pleased. There’s no smile, but the barely noticeable nod is enough for Andy who feels pleased too. They are off to a reasonably well start. It seems silly, but the nod makes Andy feel overjoyed inside. To do something right in Miranda’s eyes at this particular moment is nearly impossible, so she feels she has a right to be proud.

 

***

 

“Miranda, how are you?” Andy asks as she enters the rather dark room. The Editor is with her back to the door, but turns around as soon as she hears Andy’s voice.

 

“Considering that I’m locked up, unable to contact anyone but you and my girls, and almost every citizen of America thinks I’m a murderer, I feel almost fine.” To Andy’s surprise Miranda looks fine, good even. Every day new clothes are delivered to her, always suits from Armani, Chanel and Yves Saint Laurent, still the same size as when Andy left Runway and still looking incredible on her body.

 

“Yes, about those phone calls, I called in a couple of favours and some of yours too, and I’ve arranged that you can call Runway, but only Runway. They’ll most likely be listening in on the conversation, so don’t try to do anything relatively stupid. Also the Book will be brought to you every night and you’ll have the chance to look it over for two hours.”

 

“I may have lost my freedom temporarily, but I haven’t lost my brain. But thank you, Andrea.” At the word ‘temporarily’ Andy looks down. Miranda is convinced that she will get her off, to clear her record, but Andy herself feels less convinced.

 

“Did you speak with Cassidy and Caroline?” she asks to change the subject. Luckily Miranda goes with her.”

 

“I did. They were very supportive even though they disliked William tremendously.” As she says the name of her fiancé, Miranda’s lips purse slightly, just for a second, but Andy sees it. She wants to ask about it, but decides against it, thinking that it would be like opening a can of worms.

 

“They did?” she simply asks.

 

“He wasn’t exactly a father-type. He loved my girls, but he didn’t know how to act around them or with them. He didn’t have any experience with teenage girls. He treated them like 6-year olds instead of 16-year olds. And my girls, they felt he was uncomfortable and they never really connected with him. Everything William did for them, they saw it as a bribe to accept him. All it did was push them further away.” Miranda looks down at her hands. Her entire body language reads remorse, but Andy somehow gets the feeling it isn’t because the girls didn’t bond with their new stepfather.

 

“You must have really loved him.”

 

“I suppose I must have,” comes the simple, but fairly empty answer. “At least enough not to stab him and let him bleed out. Maybe because he didn’t screw around behind my back.” Miranda’s gaze flicks towards Andy, her eyes cold and without any sympathy.

 

“I didn’t sleep with - - You know what, I’m not going to do this. You shut me out of your life after I kissed a guy and I’m not going to have this argument years after the fact.” If Miranda is surprised, she hides it well. Her face maintains the same cold and steely expression.

 

“I wasn’t starting an argument. I was merely pointing out that it was easier to love him because he didn’t cheat on me. That’s all.”

 

“I didn’t know that what I was doing was cheating.” Andy nearly shouts. “Whatever it was we had, it wasn’t a relationship. You treated me like a whore whom you didn’t have to pay. I was a booty call. Is it so strange that I was looking for someone to be my  boyfriend or girlfriend, for someone to be my life partner? Because I wasn’t planning on being your dirty little secret forever.” Andy feels relieved. Finally she was able to get that off her chest, but Miranda’s brow is furrowed, her lips are pursed and her eyes are sad.

 

“Did you really think that I didn’t care about you?”Miranda asks as she approaches Andy. “That you were nothing more than sex  to me, that I was just fucking you and nothing more? When I first met you that day in my office  I knew you were naïve, unknown to the harsh reality of life, but I thought you had changed, that you understood that the world isn’t just black and white. I mistakenly thought you understood that I don’t open up easily and that I do not like to risk the relationship I have with my daughters before I know that my partner is serious.”

 

Slowly and gently Miranda cups Andy’s jaw and looks in her brown eyes. Andy looks back at the bottomless pools of blue and sees them overflowing with emotions, with fear, regret, anger, pain, but also compassion, sympathy and even love. Andy can’t stand it anymore. She has never seen so many emotions in one look, let alone from Miranda. She closes her eyes and leans into Miranda’s hand, feeling the warmth emanating from her skin. Suddenly she feels a soft touch against her lips, a touch she hasn’t felt in too many years. Miranda’s lips against her own, spreading a warm feeling through her body. The feeling is so familiar and so good that Andy wants to kick herself for ever going on that date, for thinking that Miranda didn’t have feelings for her.

 

“Does that feel like a kiss I would give my whore?” Miranda asks when she pulls away. Weakly Andy shakes her head, thankful that she is sitting, knowing that her legs would have given out otherwise.

 

“No. That’s what I thought. Now leave.” Miranda turns away from Andy, refusing to look at her anymore. Andy wants to tell her that she isn’t really in a position to boss her around, that Andy is her lawyer and not her assistant, but she realizes that her words have hurt Miranda in a much profounder way than she could have imagined. So instead of protesting or trying to talk to her, she gets up and leaves, feeling worse than she has ever felt in her life.

 

***

 

Andy sits beside Miranda, but the tension between them is unbearable. Miranda hasn’t looked at her one time today and she just keeps her eyes focused on the eyewitness that is being question by the grey haired DA. Andy tries to concentrate on his questions and the witness’s answers, but her mind keeps wandering to Miranda, to the kiss, to that relationship they had. Last night she lay awake thinking about the times she and Miranda had been together. The sex had been amazing, mind-blowing amazing. She had discovered that the paparazzi had it all wrong about the ‘Ice Queen’ for she wasn’t frigid at all. Her fingers and tongue were as quick, devilish and dangerous in bed as they were at Runway.

 

In the beginning of that relationship Andy had been inexperienced, never having been with a woman this made sense. She just dove in hoping for the best. Miranda however did have experience, plenty of it as it surprisingly turned out. She was patient with Andy’s clumsiness and taught her. Slowly but passionately she taught Andy how to make love to a woman. Andy is very grateful for that. She hates feeling incompetent, but at the same time it means that every time she has sex with a woman her thoughts go to Miranda and her cries of pleasure. And no woman, no man or any sexual experience she had after Miranda came even close to what she had with the silver-haired fashion goddess.

 

The feeling of cold fingers in her wrist wakes her up from her thoughts. She looks at Miranda who is still looking at the witness. Andy understands that Miranda tried to warn her that the interrogation is almost over and that it is almost her turn. The slim fingers are still resting on her wrist and for some reason they comfort Andy.

 

“You’re positive that no one else but Mr. Hollis and Miss Priestly entered that separate waiting room?”

 

“Yes, I am,” the witness answers.

 

“No further questions, Your Honour,” Thompson says and sits back down. Andy buttons up her jacket and gets up from her chair. Very briefly Miranda grabs her hand under the table and squeezes softly. A small smile plays on Andy’s lips as she squeezes Miranda’s hand back before letting go. Showtime.

 

Andy looks at the witness. He can’t be any older than twenty. He is wearing shabby clothes, although they’re supposed to be his ‘good’ clothes. His hair is long an greasy. There are dark circles under his eyes. And despite his best efforts he still smells of alcohol.

 

“Mr. Blake, do you mind if I call you William.” Andy starts. The witness shrugs.

 

“Whatever you want, but if you’re gonna call me anything, call me Bill,” the boy replies and slumps in his chair. Andy raises an eyebrow and resists the urge to look at the district attorney who most likely is trying not to get up and slap his witness. During his interrogation Bill had been acting reasonably well, but now his manners have gone out the window and he is just and underage, bored boy who loves his beer just a little too much.

 

“So Bill, the day of the murder you were going to get married?”

 

“Yeah. I was. I met this awesome chick two months ago at this really wicked concert.” Andy tries not to look surprised. She has never believed that a marriage like that, at that age, works out well. Marriage is built on knowing each other, trust, love and not just sex, awesomeness and alcohol. It can’t be right like that.

 

“That’s great. Tell me, did you go to one of those wicked concerts the day before your almost wedding day?”

 

“Yeah. It was sort of my bachelor party. We went to Rita Lynn and it was awesome shit,” Bill replies with a satisfied grin plastered in his face.

 

“Okay, Bill, I’m going to try something out on you. Pot, E, magic mushrooms, LSD, just tell me when I say something that you haven’t used yet.”

 

“Objection, Your Honour. What is the point of this?” Thompson asks.

 

“Miss Sachs?”

 

“I am merely trying to see how reliable the statement is,” Andy says innocently, widening her eyes for dramatic effect. Luckily this time it works.

 

“I’ll allow it for now, but get to the point,” the judge says and leaves it to Andy to continue her interrogation.

 

“Can I get like, arrested if I answer this?” the boy asks.

 

“Bill, a man was murdered. An innocent woman with two children could go to prison for life. I wouldn’t worry about that right now.”

 

“Oh, yeah, right. Yes, I used that stuff. I also took some dope at the concert,” he says hesitantly.

 

“I suppose you drank too.” An almost whispered ‘yes’ is the answer.

 

“And this isn’t the first time you’ve done this, is it?”

 

“No.”

 

“Which basically means that you were not hung over, still riding out your drug haze and sleep deprived, you’ve taken alcohol and drugs while being underage which can cause serious brain damage, especially to the memory part. How can you be so sure that no one else entered that room?” Andy asks. In the corner of her eye she sees a smirk on Miranda’s lips.

 

“I just am, alright?” Bill answers, agitated. Andy can sense that he is getting annoyed, pissed off. Now it’s just a matter of pushing him hard enough until he makes a mistake.

 

“And of course I wouldn’t doubt that splendid memory of yours, but how is it that you are so certain?”

 

“You wanna know how I know? Alright, let me tell you. ‘Cause you see, I’m an artist. I paint, I write like poems and music and stuff, and you know when you’re an artist, a good one, you notice things and you remember stuff. So maybe my memory isn’t as good as all you fancy lawyers, but I damn well remember the argument the silver-haired and the dead guy had before they went in. She asked him something, he got mad, like crazy. She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her inside that waiting room. Next time I saw them he was lying dead in his own blood and she ran out covered in it.” Andy feels like someone just threw a bucket of ice cold water in her face. This is bad, really bad.

 

***

Slamming the door shut as she enters the room, Andy does everything she can to not grab Miranda and shake her until she tells the entire story. Miranda who was pacing, stops when the door opens and stares at Andy.

 

“You had an argument? You two fought moments before he was killed and what you just forgot?” Andy asks. Miranda sighs, sits down and sighs again.

 

“Yes, we had a fight just before we were supposed to get married. It was public, it was horrible, humiliating and - -“

 

“It’s motive!” Andy yells.

 

“That too,” Miranda agrees aloof and makes a disinterested movement with her hands. Andy digs her nails into the insides of her hands. She had almost forgotten how infuriating Miranda can be, in a way that makes Andy want to the heel of Miranda’s very expensive heel of her Louboutin through a body part.

 

“For once in your life could you act like a human being instead of an ice queen with a frozen heart! This isn’t a little detail we’re about here, this isn’t a fucking wrongly chosen toe ring in a spread that you were going to reshoot anyway. This is your life we’re talking about!”

 

“Don’t you think I am aware of that?” Miranda interrupts Andy’s tirade. “Do you really think I hadn’t realized I could go to prison for the rest of my life? I know that, but I have accepted that as a possibility. The question is why do you care about it so much?”

 

“Because I - - Because - -“ Andy stutters. Miranda looks at her with questioning eyes. The light falls on them  in a way that makes them brilliantly blue like an ocean reflecting the sunlight. She takes Andy’s breath away. Without thinking about it Andy takes hold of Miranda’s face and crushes her lips against the older woman’s. Miranda makes a shocked sound, but she does respond to the kiss, snaking her tongue in Andy’s mouth, kissing her like they used to kiss, tender, passionate, perfect, meant to be.

 

Miranda gets up from her the chair without breaking the kiss and presses her body against Andy’s who in her turn can’t help but moan. She lets her hands slide down Miranda’s back, tracing her spine through the clothes before moving them up again, over the front of Miranda’s body, cupping her breasts.

 

“This is wrong,” Miranda mumbles against Andy’s lips. “We shouldn’t be doing this. Not here, not now.” If she had meant it, Andy would have stopped, but everything about Miranda’s body says ‘yes’, says ‘please, don’t stop’.

 

“ _You_ are making objections?” Andy replies and starts to unbutton Miranda’s jacket. When that is off, the blouse follows. “I’m about to have sex with an alleged murderer who is also my client, so if anyone should find this wrong, it’s me.”

 

“Alleged murderer? That’s an incredible vote of confidence from my lawyer. Maybe I should switch.” Andy pushes Miranda against a wall after she bunged a 500 dollar skirt around the Editor’s waist. Andy latches her lips on Miranda’s nipple, ignoring the offending lace between her lips and the skin. “I ought to fire you and make sure you stay away this time,” Miranda says as she threads her fingers through Andy’s brown tresses.

 

“Maybe you should shut up before I leave you here with your legs spread wanting and needing me. Then you’ll have no lawyer and no sex. You can just be someone’s bitch in prison and I won’t be there to save your ass.” Andy slips her hand inside of Miranda’s panties, smirking at the wetness she finds there.

 

“Oh please, we both know that I won’t be anybody’s bitch. I’ll be the one having them. I must admit that suddenly prison doesn’t sound that horrific - - oh god,” Miranda ends her sentence in a whimper as Andy slides two fingers inside of her. “Oh god, don’t stop. Just don’t stop.”

 

“I don’t think I can,” Andy replies. As the words leave her mouth, she realizes it’s true. She honestly can’t stop doing this. She needs this and not just driving her fingers inside of Miranda. She needs to see Miranda, hear her, feel her, kiss her, love her. At this moment the thought of Miranda possibly going to prison kills her. Not because it would bring her fast rising career to a screeching halt, not because the twins won’t have their mother, but simply because she wants Miranda. It has been that way the moment she first laid eyes on her. It only took her this long to realize it.

 

“I missed this,” Andy whispers in Miranda’s ear before sucking on her earlobe.

 

“I don’t recall ever being in this situation before.”

 

“Not this _this_ , but us together like this.” Miranda doesn’t reply, but just clings to Andy’s shoulders for support. Andy feels she’s close already, like she hasn’t had a release in months. Miranda’s eyes are closed, she’s biting her bottom lip to prevent sounds from escaping. She almost looks like she’s in pain.

 

“Miranda?” Andy asks.

 

“What?”

 

“Look at me, please. Look at me.” Slowly Miranda opens her eyes. Her irises have almost been swallowed by her pupils and there are small mascara smudges underneath her eyes, but the look Andy receives is so intense that she stills her movements. It’s almost as if her eyes are begging her to never stop, to never leave, to make sure that after the trial, no matter what happens, they’ll still see each other. Very lightly Andy kisses Miranda, nothing more than brushing her lips against Miranda’s, but it’s enough. A soft moan falls from Miranda’s lips as the orgasm courses through her body.

 

Andy watches her. It’s not like she has never seen this before, but this time it seems incredibly different. It feels as if for the first time Miranda needed this more than Andy did. From the way she is panting in Andy’s ear, Andy gets the feeling this was more than just sex, more than an orgasm. This was a release of tension, pain, perhaps even anger.

 

She withdraws her fingers from Miranda and intends to get a tissue from her purse when Miranda grabs her, yanks her closer and kisses her. It isn’t soft or tender, but raw and emotional, maybe it could be remorseful.

 

“Thank you,” she whispers against Andy’s lips. Andy isn’t sure what Miranda is thankful for, but she smiles anyway and kisses Miranda again, before grabbing a tissue and wiping her fingers clean. From the corner of her eye she sees Miranda pulling her skirt  down, smoothing it over her thighs and picking up her blouse from the floor.

 

“Do you think you can tell me what really happened?” Andy asks. As Miranda buttons her blouse, she sits down and nods.

 

“Yes, I suppose it’s time for that now. I know who murdered William.”

 

“Who?”

 

“My sister.” Andy blinks. That was about the last answer she had been expecting.

 

“Your sister? You don’t have a sister. Hell, the only family you have are your daughters.”

 

“Miranda Priestly isn’t the name I was born with, obviously, and I’m as much an American as Queen Elizabeth. Originally I’m an Eastender. A Jewish, factory working, poor London girl and my name was Miriam Princhek. My family didn’t understand me and couldn’t support my ‘controversial’ ideas. To make a exhausting long story short, I was disowned, I left London and made myself into the person I am now. I had closed that chapter of my life until my sister appeared on my doorstep two weeks before the wed - - before my fiancé’s death.” Andy has a feeling she knows where this story was going and she isn’t sure she likes it. It all sounds too unbelievable in her head.

 

“She claimed she had followed my career ever since it became public. Because her life was falling apart she demanded money from me. I gave her some, but after two days she returned wanting more. I refused, but she threatened me. Over time the threats became more severe. She didn’t just threaten to expose my past anymore. She threatened she would harm my daughters. The day of the wedding she showed up at the courthouse, dressed as a courier. She attacked me, that’s what was the cause of those lacerations on my arms. William tried to help me, defend me, but she managed to grab the letter opener from his pocket and then she stabbed him.” Miranda’s voice is clinical, distant as if she’s reading a grocery list. Her voice is absolutely devoid from emotions.

 

“And the argument you two had?” Andy inquires.

 

“I asked him if my sister had approached him, perhaps threatened him. He flew into a rage because I hadn’t told him sooner. I told him I didn’t want an argument to be the first thing in our marriage, but he had his mind fixed on getting married. That was the argument that boy saw.”

 

“And do you expect me to believe this, let alone convince a jury of it? It’s far-fetched, especially for you.” Andy says and looks Miranda in the eye, but she can’t make out if Miranda is telling the truth.

 

“It’s the only explanation I have to offer,” Miranda simply replies.

 

“I’m sorry, Miranda, but it sounds like the screenplay of a soap opera. This can’t be the truth.”

 

“Andrea, if you’re good at what you do, you know when I’m being honest. You tell me if I can be trusted.” She leans forward, looking Andy dead in the eye without blinking. Her hair is still mussed and her cheeks are still a little flushed and she’s absolutely beautiful, but Andy can’t see any dishonesty in the blue eyes. Doubt and pain, but no dishonesty.

 

“Fine, but I might have to put you on the stand.”

 

“No. I won’t testify.”

 

“But - -“ Andy tries.

 

“No.”

 

“Alright, I’ll see if your story checks out. I’ll need your sister’s name and preferably a description.”

 

“Her name is Sarah, Sarah Princhek. You don’t require a description. She is my identical twin.”

 

***

 

“Jason, I need you to check if a Sarah Princhek checked into a hotel in New York this past month. She was short on money, so check  the cheaper ones. Also do a full background check on her. I want to know everything there is to know about her, financials, medical history, family, especially family. If you happen to find her in the process, call me immediately. Thanks.” Andy breaks the connection. Jason is the firm’s detective, one of the best in the business, so she’s hoping that he can help her with this.

 

She throws he phone on the table, nearly letting it slide on the floor. She just can’t believe that Miranda never told her she has a family somewhere in England. She can’t believe Miranda never told her she has a twin sister.

 

“Oh, bad day?” Karen asks when she enters the room and sees the desperation and exhaustion on her face.

 

“More like a long, complicated, bad day,” Andy sighs and lets her head fall in her hands.

 

“Do you want to talk about it, honey?”

 

“It’s just Miranda and her story.”

 

“Yeah, I heard rumours, but that can’t be all. I know that look and it’s more than a different client. Normally it’s a problem with your love life, but that can’t be it, because you haven’t seen any action in ages,” Karen teases her and sits down next to Andy.

 

“Well, you’re not far off,” Andy groans.

 

“Then you should tell me. You know me. I’m very good with problems of the heart.”

 

“That’s rich, coming from a divorce attorney.”

 

“Oh shut up. Now, are you going to tell me why your face is such a sourpuss or should I just leave you here stewing in your own Miranda-tinted misery?”

 

“Alright,” Andy says, “But you have to promise to keep your mouth shut. I swear to God, I have connections and I will use them if you talk.”

 

“Sure, I promise. Not a word. My lips are sealed.”

 

“Some years ago when I was still trying to be a journalist, Miranda and I sort of had an affair.” Karen’s mouth falls open, causing her to look like a goldfish.”

 

“You’re joking,” she whispers. “You had an affair with Miranda fucking Priestly, Ice Queen extraordinaire, fashion goddess to the entire world and like the straightest woman on earth. You slept with her? Is she some closeted lesbian or something.”

 

“Yes, I slept with her and I don’t know. I guess she’s bisexual. She has had sex with women besides me, she just doesn’t want that made public. And can you blame her? The press would slaughter her if they knew. Irv would find it much easier to kick her out and she would be finished.”

 

“Of course. I see. So how did it end? I mean, she’s a catch.”

 

“It stopped over some stupid misunderstanding that was mostly my fault. But the point of me telling you this was that a couple days ago she kissed me and today…I had sex with her.”

 

“What?! Oh, you didn’t. You had sex with La Priestly today? That’s - - I don’t know what that is. There is no word for that.” Karen falls back in her chair and rubs her brow. “Was it good?”

 

“Karen!” Andy exclaims. She loves Karen, she really does. The moment she arrived at the law firm Karen immediately became her friend. They talked about a lot of things and Karen had indeed helped her with her love life a couple of times, but she always had a talent for asking the wrong questions at the wrong time.

 

“What? The press always calls her frigid and cold and they can’t imagine Miranda Priestly and sex in the same sentence, but a woman with legs like those just has to be good in bed. So is she?”

 

“Yes, of course. She is amazing. She’s the best I’ve ever had and probably the best I ever will have. And that’s all you’re getting from me. The problem is that she told me this story that I can’t believe even though I think she might be telling the truth. But if it doesn’t check out I can’t do anything anymore. She’ll go to prison for the rest of her life and I don’t think I can let happen.”

 

“Andy, you are a brilliant lawyer. You’re smart and you have your entire, brilliant career ahead of you. Whether her story is true or not, you will get her free. I know you will. You just have to use that enormous brain of yours and come up with the solution.”

 

“Thanks,” Andy says gratefully. Karen smiles, gets up and kisses the top of Andy’s head.

 

“Anything for you, honey.”

 

***

 

“The last day of the trial, the summation, the most nerve wracking day of the trial before the jury retires. Andy is wringing her hands under the table. Jason was supposed to have called with information already, but he still hasn’t. Basically everything she is going to say depends on what he discovers. Miranda sits in the chair next to her. Her body is tense, but her eyes are following Thompson. The dangerous flicker in her eyes is the only thing that tells Andy she despises every word that leaves his mouth.

 

“Miranda Priestly is known for icy persona. Her employees flee from her when she enters the building. People believe she is Satan in high heels. This is a woman who is capable of murder. And not only that, but she was the only person in that waiting room with the victim. They were seen arguing just minutes before his death. There’s your motive. There’s no evidence to suggest that Miss Priestly didn’t murder him in cold blood and then fled to scene in an attempt to pretend to be innocent.

 

Normally every time I have to hold my closing argument my wife makes me a special kind of breakfast, because she made the time I held my very first closing argument and I won. Ever since then she made it for me. But today I told her that she didn’t need to make it for me and you know why? Because it seems clear to me that there is no room for reasonable doubt here. Miranda Priestly killed William Hollis and then tried to deny it. Guilty is the only just verdict.” Thompson concludes.

 

Miranda raises an imperial eyebrow that says more than her sharp tongue could ever say. Andy herself just thinks that he’s an asshole. Normally she can stand the invective methods, but with Miranda she can’t. Not anymore. She just knows that it all isn’t true.

 

Again just before she wants to get up Miranda rests her fingers on Andy’s wrist. It has become some kind of ritual and it comforts her, makes her calm. And right now she needs to be calm. It’s all or nothing right now. Just as she opens her mouth to talk the door swings open and Jason enters. Andy wants to sigh with relief, but manages to control her reaction to a grateful nod. Jason hands her a small paper and takes a seat at the back of the courtroom. Quickly Andy scans the words on the paper. She places it face down on the table.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have been presented with all the facts the police has found. But not one of those pieces of evidence actually proves Miss Priestly killed her fiancé, the man she loved, still loves, who she was going to marry. All the evidence is circumstantial. Yes, there may have been an argument, but that doesn’t necessarily mean motive. It could have been a simple case of nerves.

 

Now I’d like to put a theory in front of you to see if it works. This entire case has been focusing on someone wanting to murder Mr. Hollis. What if the opposite is true? What if someone wanted to murder Miss Priestly instead  and her fiancé, trying to protect her, simply got in the way? It is a possibility. It’s a well-known fact that Miss Priestly has made a lot of enemies during her tenure as Editor in Chief.

 

Or perhaps, perhaps someone from Miss Priestly’s past. A woman of her age, the same height and build, even the same facial features, dressed as a courier. A courier could easily enter that waiting room unnoticed. Couriers aren’t noticed, not in busy courthouses. She comes to claim something she thinks belongs to her. Miss Priestly disagrees. They argue and fight. Mr. Hollis wants to help his fiancée and in the process gets stabbed with his own lucky letter opener by this woman.

 

This all sounds very unbelievable, but we have found her, this woman, the real murderer. And she has agreed to come here and talk. She will testify and clear Miss Priestly’s name. Jason, if you could escort her in.” Jason gets up and leaves the courtroom. Everybody in the jury turns their head to look at the door, Thompson and the judge do too. Everyone except Miranda. She keeps her eyes focused on Andy with a questioning look. Andy stares back, answering Miranda’s question with a gaze that says ‘I know’.

 

10 seconds. 30 seconds. A minute. Andy keeps the entire courtroom waiting.

 

“Okay, there is no such woman. I made  that up.” The second Andy says those words, everyone in the courtroom begins to talk softly and Thompson gets up angrily.

 

“Your Honour, this is ridiculous.”

 

“No, actually it’s not. This is what I would call reasonable doubt,” Andy replies.

 

“Oh come on, you can’t be serious.”

 

“No, I’m serious, I’m very serious. Every person present here turned to look at that door, including you, Mr. Thompson. Everybody expected another woman, another suspect to walk through that door. That means that no one here is sure of the fact that Miss Priestly murdered her fiancé. That is reasonable doubt. I rest my case.”

 

***

 

“Well played, Miss Sachs. But I’m not certain that it will be enough,” Thompson says once they’ve left the courtroom.

 

“Oh, but I’m certain. The question is, are you? If you lose this, it’s your career, right? Now if you’ll excuse me, I want to have a word with my client.” With those words Andy turns on her heel and enters the room where Miranda is waiting, the room where they had sex a couple of days ago. She finds her gazing out the window at the people down on the street.

 

“What exactly was the idea behind that strategy?” she asks when Andy closes the door.

 

“You didn’t look. Everybody in the courtroom looked at the door, you didn’t. Why?”

 

“I fail to see why that is important right now,” Miranda replies.

 

“Aren’t you curious what was on the piece of paper Jason brought me? Let me tell you. ‘Sarah Princhek died eight months ago of cancer. She was in New York a year ago and received a large amount of money at that time.’ You lied.”

 

“I did.”

 

“You did kill him. Why? And the truth this time or I will break m confidentially vow and walk up to the first police officer out there and report you.”

 

“Yes, I murdered my husband-to-be. The day I was supposed to get married my daughters confessed to me what he really was, what he had done to them. He had been abusing them right under my noise for a long time and I hadn’t seen it. I failed them as a mother, as their protector. I confronted him about it, just before we entered the waiting room.”

 

 _“Did you abuse my daughters?”_

 _“What?! Are you out of your goddamn mind?”_

 _“Don’t you dare lie to me. They told me. Now I want you to tell me. Did you have rape my daughters in my own home?” her voice is low, dangerous, deadly. But William just grins. A snarl appears on Miranda’s face._

 _“You disgust me.” Miranda tries to walk away, but he roughly grabs her by her upper arm and drags her into the separate waiting room. Miranda tries to loosen his grip and claws at his fingers but he won’t let go. He pushes her in a chair._

 _“You don’t get to walk away from me. It’s too late now. You will marry me and not report me to the police and there is nothing you can do about it,” he says smugly. Miranda narrows her eyes. Her fingers are itching to hit him or scratch his eyes out._

 _“Where do you get the nerve to talk to me like that? I am going to make sure you’ll be put away for an indefinite period of time. You abused my daughters. You hurt them, scarred them for the rest of their lives. They may never get over this. And you dare to think that I will let you continue doing that and as my husband? You can’t be human.” Miranda gets up to leave, but William takes hold of her._

 _“You can and you will. I know about you, about your history in London. I’m sure the press will be very interested to know that the famous Miranda Priestly was a poor English factory who used to work on the streets and, how did your sister put it, ‘turn tricks to support the poor Jewish family and her drunk daddy’. I’m sure the story will be a hit. Frigid Fashion Queen Is A Former Hooker.” For a second Miranda is stunned. Sarah told him. She can’t believe it. If her sister wasn’t dead already she would have killed her._

 _“And you know, you may not know it, but I know you. I know that you care too much about your daughters to put them through a difficult trial where they have to testify and go through all those memories again.” In less than a second Miranda decides what to do and grabs the letter opener from his pocket and tries to stab him, but he defends himself and even manages to cut her. In a split second where William’s concentration slackens and Miranda drives the sharp opener in his chest, right where any normal person’s heart is supposed to be._

 _“You don’t know me at all,” Miranda hisses as he falls on the floor. “And my daughters will never have to see your face again.”_

 

“It’s one of the worst feelings a mother can have,” Miranda whispers as tears are forming in her eyes. Andy sees that she is trying to force them back. “knowing that you have failed your children. It’s humiliating. I have never so ashamed of myself. He abused them right under my nose and I didn’t see it.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before? I could have helped you. Why lie?”

 

“There are different sorts of lies, Andrea.” Miranda replies and looks down at her hands. “I lied to spare my girls from more pain. William was right. I wanted to spare them a trial where they had to testify. I couldn’t put them through those horrors again. I just couldn’t. I regret that I made you feel like I didn’t trust you, but I don’t regret lying.” Andy has never seen Miranda this broken. That night in Paris long ago seems like nothing compared to this. Not that she’s crying, but she is just broken. During her confession she slowly seemed to fall apart until there was nothing left, but a small woman who is horribly ashamed of herself.

 

“I’m so sorry, Miranda. I - -“ A knock on the door interrupts Andy. Miranda’s head snaps up and Andy can see in front of her eyes how Miranda rebuilds herself in a matter of seconds. Walls are drawn up, her eyes become cold and hard leaving no room for sadness and then Miranda Priestly ice cold fashionista sits in front of her.

 

“Enter,” Andy says. The door opens and Thompson enters. “Are you here to offer a deal?”

 

“As a matter of fact I am,” he replies and sits down. His eyes flick towards Miranda, but when he meets her glare, he focuses on Andy. “Homicide second degree.”

 

“No.”

 

“Manslaughter first degree.”

 

“You must be really desperate, coming here, offering us deals. How close are you to losing your job? How many years does Miranda have to get for you to last another year?” Thompson’s nostrils flare dangerously, but he doesn’t react in the way he normally would, which is with vicious comments.

 

“Manslaughter second degree, three years and she’ll be back on the street, complaining about clothes.” Andy glances at Miranda who is looking at Thompson. For a moment she is actually considering the offer.

 

“No, there will be no deal. I will wait for the verdict. It would be a shame to let both your hard work go to waste by a little deal.”

 

“In that case you will get life.”

 

“Oh. I doubt that and so are you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here offering me a meager three years. When you lose this and thereby lose your job, it should at least appear you went down fighting. Now leave us,” Miranda sneers. Thompson looks as if Miranda shot his puppy, but gets up and walks towards the door. “And give my regrets to your nephew. I’m terribly sorry that he hasn’t been able to find a job anywhere for so long. Let’s hope that TV Guide treats him well.”

 

“His nephew?” Andy asks when Thompson has left.

 

“Your friend, Christian Thompson. Don’t tell you didn’t know that.”

 

“I didn’t,” Andy says weakly. “I suppose it makes sense. Wait, you blacklisted him?” Miranda smiles smugly. “You blacklisted him, because we had sex? But you let me off the hook when I left you behind in the middle of Fashion week?”

 

“It’s a matter of principle. Mr. Thompson had it coming for a long time, especially after he tried to flirt with me. Your little one nightstand was just the last drop.”

 

“Aha. Well, thanks. He was an ass.” Andy says.

 

“I can’t disagree with you on that,” Miranda replies and smiles a little. It gives Andy a warm feeling that Miranda can still smile like she means it.

 

“So, waiting for the verdict. You’re sure?”

 

“Yes. I killed him and I don’t have any feelings of regret. Should the jury find me guilty, I will receive the punishment I deserve, but I trust that your summation, if it can even be called that, was good enough.”

 

***

 

The moment Andy got up that day she knew it was going to be the most stressful day of her life, including her Runway-time. The day of the verdict was always bad, no lawyer ever admitted to it, but those days were bad for whatever addiction one might have. Her fingers were shaky when she dressed herself, her hands were trembling when she poured her coffee. The jury had taken longer than she had expected, but she isn’t sure yet if that’s a good thing or a bad one. All she knows is that it makes her nervous. Miranda knows it too.

 

Her expression is worried when she sees Andy. She can probably read it from her body language. With quick glances Miranda tries to calm her, but it doesn’t work. When the jury walks in, Andy can feel her heart trying to pound a way out of her chest. Most likely as a last resort Miranda places her hand on top of Andy’s entwining their fingers.

 

“All rise.” The judges enters and nods to both Andy and Thompson before sitting down. Andy knows that she was lucky to get him. He is one the most sympathetic judges.

 

“Did the jury reach a verdict?”

 

“We did, Your Honour.”

 

“Was the decision unanimous?”

 

“Yes, Your Honour.” Andy holds her breath. It seems to take forever before the verdict is said. She has the feeling that her heart has stopped and all the energy she has left in her body has gone to her hand that is being held by Miranda. For once Miranda’s hand is warm, even a little sweaty. Andy knows Miranda would never admit it, but she is nervous too.

 

“On the charge of murder in the first degree we find the defendant - -“

 

Guilty

 

Not guilty

 

Guilty

 

Not guilty

 

The words are going around in Andy’s head. She has a strange feeling that this won’t turn out in a good way. That Miranda will go to prison, the twins will lose their mother, Runway will fall into shambles and her own career will be over.

 

“- - not guilty.”

 

Andy wants to cry with relief. Her heart starts beating again, the weight of the fashion world has fallen of her shoulders and she can breathe again. Miranda is free. William Hollis will never touch a child again. Thompson’s career is over and her own career is made. If she weren’t in a public place she would have pulled Miranda in her arms and kissed her, but she is, so instead she extends her hand.

 

To her enormous surprised Miranda doesn’t accept it, but instead she raises her hand and brushes her fingertips lightly over Andy’s cheeks, making her skin tingle wherever they touch. Miranda leans in and softly presses her lips against Andy’s. Andy widens her eyes and tries to see the reaction of the people around them. Not everybody has noticed but some have and staring at them in disbelief. Miranda pulls back.

 

“Thank you, Andrea,” she says and turns around when her daughters walk towards her. They hadn’t been present during the trial and even during the verdict they had waited outside the courtroom until someone would tell them what had happened. Now Miranda wraps her arms around their shoulders and she walks out of the courtroom with them. Ignoring the murmurs, the press and basically everybody, even Andy.

 

Everything that happens after that is a blur. Andy doesn’t hear the congratulations, doesn’t see the defeated expression on Thompson face, doesn’t see the flashes of the camera’s, doesn’t hear the questions shouted at her about the trial, about Miranda, about the kiss. She just keeps on walking until somehow she finds herself at home.

 

She was an idiot to think that Miranda would ever take her back. A future with them together was just a childish dream. Miranda needed her to get her free, and Andy doesn’t regret that, but that was all. What they may have had together is gone and it won’t come back. It’s silly, but Andy sits down in her chair and starts to cry, until she doesn’t have any tears left.

 

***

 

“I’m so sorry, Andy,” Karen says and hugs Andy. After Andy didn’t show up at work for a couple of days Karen came by to see what was going on. “Isn’t there anything you can do to maybe get her back?”

 

Her apartment is a mess. She hasn’t cleaned since she got home and all around her newspapers are spread out, the articles about Miranda on top.

 

 _MIRANDA PRIESTLY GOES FREE_

 _New York’s own bloody bride was found not guilty in trial…_

 _FASHION DEVIL AT LARGE AGAIN_

 _It is unclear how she did it, but someone Miranda Priestly managed to escape from an almost certain conviction. After the fashionista was seen covered in her dead fiancé’s everybody thought she was finished, but somehow she managed to find herself some young, but apparently very successful lawyer. At least Andrea ‘Andy’ Sachs gets a shiny career out of it…_

 _ICE QUEEN LOCKS LIPS WITH LAWYER_

 _The woman everybody thought to be cold, frigid and until recently a murderess, took the courthouse by surprise when she kissed her twenty-five years younger lawyer. For those who don’t know who they are. Miranda Priestly, Editor in Chief of Runway, accused of murdering her fiancé, kissed, lip to lip, Andy Sachs, an upcoming young lawyer and ex-employee of the Satan in heels…_

 

Those are just a few of the many articles that the papers, blogs and other media forms wrote about Miranda and the young lawyer. Some actually have a nice tone, other are really formal, but most are attacking, vicious.

 

“You do know who we’re talking about here,” Andy replies. “Once she has made up her mind, she just doesn’t change it anymore. She doesn’t want me, so I have to live with that.” Andy can’t help herself, but the tears start to roll down her cheeks again. Karen only hugs her tighter.

 

“I know, honey. I just thought that maybe there was something, but let’s not think about it. You just cry and forget about her if you can. I’ll be here to help you get through it.”

 

“I just wish we could have had a proper goodbye, you know. She just left me without even saying something. I know we weren’t really together, but still, she might have said something.” Andy wipes the tears away after Karen has let go of her and went into the kitchen to make some tea.

 

“It doesn’t matter that you weren’t together. You had sex, she kissed you in public, she could have said something. But, honey, I meant what I said. Don’t think about her. She’s a beautiful, strong woman, but - - “

 

“Not helping,” Andy groans. Miranda face is appearing in her thoughts. That strange, but extraordinarily, beautiful face.

 

“Would you let me talk? I was gonna say that you’re all those things too and if she doesn’t see that, she doesn’t deserve you, okay?” Andy nods. She doesn’t care as long as Karen just stops talking about Miranda.

 

“Good girl, now let’s watch cheap horror films with lots of chocolate.”

 

“I’m not sixteen anymore, Karen,” Andy protests.

 

“I don’t care if you’re sixteen or sixty-six, it’s still the best medicine against being dumped.”

 

***

 

It’s been two months, one week and three days. It’s been exactly that long that Andy won the case, Miranda kissed her in public and left her in the same day. Somewhere during that time Andy managed to drag herself out of her apartment and into clean clothes, into the office. After congratulations, some rather annoying questions everything went back to normal. She is even working on a new case right now where a girl murdered the man who had been beating her for the past two years.

 

“Andy, honey, are you coming?” Karen asks as she pokes her head inside Andy’s new and bigger office. She got it when she won the Priestly case. Andy raises her eyebrows.

 

“What?”

 

“You forgot? You are unbelievable sometimes. You, me, some other ‘gals’ from the office and then cocktails. It’s very important that you get drunk. You haven’t been drunk in god knows how long.”

 

“Yeah, of course, you and the ‘gals’ go ahead and I’ll be right there. I just have to finish up here,” Andy replies. She doesn’t really feel like getting drunk, but she doesn’t want to let Karen down.

 

“Okay. Just be there.” With those words Karen leaves, the clicking of her heels the sign that she has actually left. Andy starts to gather all her paper and putting them back in the right folders when her phone rings. At first she doesn’t want to answer it, thinking it’s Karen to bug her already, but when she looks at her phone she sees that the number is blocked. Her curiosity is sparked and she answers.

 

“Andy Sachs speaking.” There’s a long silence, a long, very loaded silence. “Hello?”

 

“Andrea.” Andy nearly drops her phone. This can’t be true.

 

“Miranda. What - - I,” she stutters.

 

“Andrea, remember how to breathe. I can’t have you passing out on the phone. Your office is on the other side of Manhattan,” Miranda says dryly, but in a light tone as if nothing ever happened between them.

 

“Why are you calling me?”

 

“I realized that I left you in a rather difficult position.”

 

“Difficult position? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Do you know what you have put me through? I have had to deal with the press hounding me for answers about your kissing action. You dumped me without a word, a goodbye. It’s been hell, Miranda.” Another long silence follows. Andy breathes heavily as the anger courses through her veins. In her opinion Miranda has crossed a line. She is about to hang up when Miranda starts speaking.

 

“I’m sorry. I should have called.”

 

“Yeah, you should have. So why didn’t you? Why wait so long?”

 

“I left with my daughters for the Hamptons immediately after the trial and stayed there for a week. They needed, we needed the time,” Miranda explains.

 

“A week? How nice. The verdict was five and a halve weeks ago. Four and a halve if you extract your vacation. To me that seems plenty of time to pick up a phone and call me. Or even to start your computer and send an e-mail,” Andy snaps.

 

“Andrea - -“

 

“Don’t ‘Andrea’ me. I’ve had it with you, Miranda. If you really liked me, wanted me you would have tried harder. But you’ve turned yourself into this iron lady and you barely allow yourself any emotions or any spontaneous actions. The most spontaneous action you’ve had was killing your fiancé and that nearly cost you the rest of your life.

 

 I don’t think I can do it like this. Look, I know that your childhood was crap, but mine wasn’t exactly a cakewalk either. There are a lot of people that have a worse childhood than you’ve had and they can enjoy life. You need to live your life and actually live and not just walk through like some robot. Goodbye.” Andy snaps her phone shut. She knows that maybe she should regret what she said, but she can’t, because every word she said was true. But still, she just lost her only chance to ever have a relationship with Miranda.

 

“Damn it,” she hisses and slams her fist down on her desk. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.” Her phone rings again.

 

“What?” she snaps.

 

“Jeez, don’t bite my head off,” Karen says. “I was just wondering when you’re coming down here.” In the background Andy can hear people talking, trying to be louder than the music that is playing.

 

“I don’t know, Kare, I really don’t feel like it. Not now anyway.”

 

“Oh god. What happened? And don’t say nothing, because the tone of your voice tells me that there’s something wrong.”

 

“Miranda called.” Andy’s third telephone-silence of the evening follows. She hears that Karen leaves the crowded club and enters a place that’s less noisy.

 

“Okay, can you repeat that for me, honey, because I’m not sure I heard you right.”

 

“No, you heard me right. Miranda called me a few minutes ago.”

 

“So what happened?”

 

“Well, basically, I told her fuck off because she’s an ice-cold robot.” Again a silence follows. Andy is really getting tired of these silences. Why can’t people just say something to know that she hasn’t shocked the life out of them.

 

“Oh honey, you’re such an idiot.” Andy blinks. Finally she reacts in a way that says she is completely and totally over Miranda and then she gets this reaction.

 

“What?”

 

“Andy, I love you, I really do, but you are an idiot sometimes. You’ve been moping around for weeks, literally weeks about you being dumped by Miranda. And yes, maybe you act like you’re over her, but you and I both know you’re not and you’ll probably never be. And finally, and I mean finally, the woman of your dreams calls you, perhaps to apologize, perhaps to ask you out or perhaps just to officially dump you so you know it’s really over and you do that. If that’s not an idiotic thing to do, then I don’t know what is.” Andy listens to Karen with her mouth open. With every word that Karen says she realizes she is right. She is an idiot and now, now what?

 

“So what do I do?” she finally asks.

 

“You finish up and come down here, so we can talk face to face and then we get drunk.” Before Andy can reply, Karen breaks the connection.

 

***

 

“Hey honey, there you are,” Karen exclaims when she spot Andy entering the club. “I was beginning to wonder if maybe you had drowned in your own sorrow. I called you thirty minutes ago. I even had a complete conversation with my daughter and my son of a bitch ex-husband, because the bastard forgot to that it was his weekend.”

 

“I’m sorry,’ Andy replies as she kisses Karen’s cheek. “I spent the entire time contemplating if I should call Miranda back, but eventually I figured that even if I did, she wouldn’t pick up  the phone and if she did pick, she’d kill me over the phone, so I decided to come here and get drunk. Where are the others?’

 

“They’re over there,” Karen says and point over her shoulder at their colleagues at the bar who are already pretty drunk or at least very tipsy. “But before we join them, there’s someone I want you to meet. And before you go all ‘I’m not ready to see anyone else’ or ‘I’m not over Miranda yet’, you’re going to meet her. She’s beautiful, intelligent. She has her flaws, but she is really interested in meeting you.” Andy rolls her eyes. Karen was right, she really doesn’t want to meet this woman whoever she is, but before she can protest, Karen grabs her wrist and drags her to a private booth.

 

“Karen, I really don’t - -“

 

“Shut up and go in there. She’s waiting for you. Just let go and enjoy yourself, honey,” With those words Karen pushes her through the red velvet curtains. Andy’s eyes have to get used to the dim light. The club was dark, but it’s even darker in the booth. She blinks a couple of times and then focuses on the woman who sits there. She blinks again.

 

“Miranda”

 

“Andrea” They look at each other for a few moments without saying anything. Andy isn’t sure what she should do. Should sit down, walk away, yell at her, beg for forgiveness or just kiss her. It’s excruciating.

 

“Please sit down,” Miranda says. Andy’s legs are shaking as she slowly sits down across from Miranda. The soft light reflects on Miranda’s face, making her skin glow. She looks irresistible.

 

“Why didn’t you call me?” Andy asks calmly.

 

“Honestly, I was afraid.”

 

“You? Afraid?”

 

“Yes, I was at loss at what to say. I knew I had feelings for you, but you know what I had done. I wasn’t sure if I could burden you with that knowledge while having a relationship with you. I wouldn’t be able to stand watching you struggle with the fact that I am a murderer.” Miranda’s confession takes Andy completely by surprise. She never would have thought that Miranda would be so considerate of her feelings.

 

“I could handle it. I can handle it. If I couldn’t I would have reported you already, but I believe you killed him for the right reasons. Of course murder is never the answer, but I’m sure I would have done the same thing.” Miranda smiles a grim smile and shakes her head.

 

“No, you wouldn’t have. It would have killed you to discover that your fiancé was a child molester, but you would have reported him.”

 

“Okay, maybe I would have, but I believe you did good. It wouldn’t be a burden. You can have all the secrets and flaws that you want. You’re still Miranda Priestly to me. A cold, hard woman on the inside, but warm and even loveable once you take away that exterior. You’re infuriating at times, but you’re the closest thing to perfect that I will ever know.” Miranda looks at her disbelievingly, like she has never heard those words. Three marriages and one engagement and no one has ever told her she’s perfect.

 

“You - - I,” Miranda has lost her tongue. Andy smiles warmly and leans forward, lightly pressing her lips against Miranda’s.

 

“You’re a strange woman, Miranda. You can kill a man, but you can’t seduce a girl,” Andy says when she pulls back.

 

“Shut up,” Miranda snaps, but Andy can see that she doesn’t really mean it.

 

“Fine. So why did you call now?”

 

“My girls wanted to have dinner with you. To meet the brilliant lawyer who defended their mother.”

 

“Do they know?” Andy inquires. Miranda raises her eyebrows.

 

“Do they know what? They know I killed him, yes. They knew that the moment they heard he was dead. Do they know about us? I haven’t told them, but their teenagers and they’re clever.”

 

“Aha. I guess, we’ll see how it goes. Was it just the twins that made you call?” Andy asks and tries to look innocent, not that it helps. Miranda’s look cuts straight through her. It still makes her a little uncomfortable.

 

“No,” Miranda says after a moment. “I missed you.”

 

“Good,” Andy replies relieved. “I missed you too.” That’s the understatement of the century, Karen would say. “So dinner. When?”

 

“Tomorrow, seven at my house,” Miranda replies. “Of course if you it would be possible to come with me now, if you want to.” Miranda actually looks at little shy as she asks Andy to come with her. It’s endearing and cute, which is the last word Andy would have thought of when thinking of Miranda. She pretends to consider it, to keep Miranda a little on edge.

 

“Uh,” she says, prolonging Miranda’s nervousness a little longer. “Yes, why wouldn’t I?” Miranda places her hands on Andy’s cheeks and kisses her, opening her lips slightly to allow Andy’s tongue access. To Andy it’s official, they’re back together. Miranda will probably have another opinion, but right now, she doesn’t care. She slides of her seat and sits on her knees in front of Miranda, placing her hands on Miranda’s waist. She traces Miranda’s hips through the fabric of her skirt and slips her hands underneath it, stroking the smooth thighs, running her fingers of the lace edge of Miranda’s stockings.

 

“Not here,” Miranda whispers and pushes Andy’s hands away. “We should go to my house.”

 

“Alright,” Andy says and gets up after quickly stealing another kiss. “Let’s get out of here.”

 


End file.
